


Mourning Something More

by afuchswelpe



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Drug Addiction, Eating Disorders, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Islamophobia, Loss, Love at First Sight, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Slow Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt, Terrorism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 05:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afuchswelpe/pseuds/afuchswelpe
Summary: Any American alive and conscious during the September eleventh attacks can tell you where they were and what they were doing when they heard the chilling news.Todd Morrison is no exception.





	Mourning Something More

Sirens, sobs, screams.

That’s all Todd could hear with the exception of rubber soles slapping the rigid concrete of Lower Manhattan. His lungs burn and feet ache as a result of over-excursion of his already non-existent stamina. He’s running like his life depends on it, one wobbly foot after another. One shaky breath after the next. For an instant, Todd meets his own eyes in the tinted window of a parked car. The moment would’ve looked unimportant to the average passerby, but it was enough to tether Todd’s consciousness back to the present and rethink everything that had happened in the last three minutes and forty-eight seconds.

He was sprinting.  
He could barely breathe.  
He was terrified.

It’d started out like any typical coffee chugging and midnight cramming day. Todd had gotten zero sleep the night prior, mainly due to frantic studying for this afternoon’s test. Pharmacology was not a painless major to say at the least. The ginger worked the opening shift Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays at the Liberty Public Library from nine in the morning till twelve in the afternoon. He had a two-hour break before his painfully dull classes, that usually dragged on till seven or eight at night, began. Luckily, Saturdays were his oasis. A whole day with no set times or plans is a big stress reliever when someone is constantly breathing down your neck or hounding you to do inhumane amounts of work.

It was close to an hour before Todd’s shift actually began. He usually came in early to get a headstart on cleaning and shelving; today was no exception. The only sound present in the nearly empty library was the muffled noises of traffic and Todd’s humming as he absentmindedly scrubbed at the circulation desk with a bleach wipe. He was a big stickler when it came to germs, so wiping down his workspace became an easy habit. Todd completed each task off his mental checklist until he couldn’t think of anything else that needed to be done until opening.

Drowsiness pulled at his eyelids like a sack of bricks as he rested his head on the cool linoleum of the circulation desk. Falling asleep had never felt so simple; looking back it was bizarre how easily Todd had dozed off considering his severe insomnia and tendency to pull all-nighters. It wasn’t normal, but to be fair, very little about that day was normal. However, Todd’s much-needed rest was disrupted by the broken audio of a TV and sweaty hands shaking him awake.

The ginger gave an annoyed groan as he tried the swat the hands away. “Todd, this is an emergency.” A low voice hissed.

Todd’s right eye fluttered open, irked look plastered on his face as he sat up. Mr. Gorton, head librarian, stood in front of him. There was an undeniable look of fear, anger, and confusion in the older man’s eyes as he grabbed Todd’s arm. With a tug, the younger was pulled out of his comfortable chair and was being pulled across the room. Todd looked over at the clock in a panic, did he sleep for that long?

The clock read nine-twelve in the morning. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than ten minutes. Mr. Gorton is dragging him to the break room where the library’s TV can be heard broadcasting a news report. “Sir what’s going on-” Todd stops dead in his tracks once he sees the grainy screen of the 2000 LED TV.

Blocky letters reading ‘SECOND PLANE CRASHES INTO SOUTH TOWER’ were displayed across the header of the local news channel. There’s a woman speaking into her microphone with a somber expression, but Todd doesn’t hear her. He’s too focused on the blown up photograph to her left. There are two towers, smoke and flames are pouring out of the gashes in them. The one on the right had a rip towards the top of the building, the one on the left had one closer to the middle.  
None of it made sense. Todd’s eyes were hazy and his head felt like static. “This is some kind of joke... Right?” He chokes out, voice cracking slightly.

Silence.

He doesn’t get it; why is he scared? Why is he angry? Why is he worried? His conscious was far ahead the rest of him and he couldn’t seem to catch up. Everything felt like a dream, some horribly realistic simulation he just needs to wake up from.

“The World Trade Center-” The TV rasped.

That was all Todd needed to hear for everything to click in place. The World Trade Center is under attack, Twin Towers, his dad. The towers could collapse at any moment. He needed to go.

Todd’s head was racing with thoughts. His legs were overwhelmed with the urge to run. He needed to do something, anything. He knew he had to be logical, he knew that the Twin Towers were nearly six blocks away, he knew the streets would be hectic, and he knew he was extremely uncoordinated. Great.

Finally, he shut up. He shut his overly analytical head up and put as simple of a goal as possible in his head; find dad. Todd’s adrenaline took over as he turned on his heel and dashed out the glass doors of the library. Mr. Gorton didn’t try to stop him. He was too wrapped up in his own world.

Todd was terribly accurate about the condition of the streets. In New York, the smallest of events can trigger insane amounts of traffic, but this was no small mishap. This was complete insanity in its purest form. Everyone Todd ran by was confused about one thing or another. The severity of the situation was so thick it was practically mailable. Everything was so intense to the point of where it felt like you were choking on it.

He was sprinting, jogging, walking, sprinting again. Todd was an adrenaline gobbling monster that hadn’t been fed in years. But like all good things, it came to an end. Todd’s motivation took a steep drop as he collapsed on the concrete stairs of a nearby building, gasping uselessly for air. His legs felt like wet paper and his chest throbbed. It didn’t help that the hoards of people flooding the sidewalk were loud enough to muffle his own thoughts and add to his stress. He was absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing but to continue lying on the ground and forget the world. Nevertheless, he forced himself to stand.

It took a good few minutes for Todd to fully catch his breath. In those seven minutes, he had managed to get as close to Twin Towers as possible. Inevitably, he came face to face with side-parked cop cars, police, and distressed civilians. Hundreds of questions were spewed by the growing group of citizens without any answers. Beg, after plea, after question, after sob. Uncharacteristically, Todd was one of them. He was one the scared bystanders in the street yelling out rambles of questions without response. It was stupid and pointless, but it made him feel a little better. Screaming, questioning, and pestering was what he needed right now. He just needed to get all the thoughts out of his head and into the world.

It’d been a good forty minutes after the impact of the second plane (“Flight 175.” The girl to his left informed). Todd had taken a seat on the curb, knees to his chest and eyes trained on the small rip in the toe of his left shoe. Everything was messy, and it was going to stay like that until everyone got some answers.

Within the literal hell, there were angels. Kind souls there to help in whatever way they could. There were people who brought bottled water to those without, there were priests praying in the streets for the lives of those trapped inside the smoldering towers, there were therapy dogs brought out to help calm people down. On any other day, Todd would’ve taken the time to stop and silently admire the kindness of complete strangers. Instead, he was on the verge of hyperventilation and finger discoloration from gripping his knees so hard.

Todd was in deep, pessimistic thought when he felt a sudden light tap on his shoulder accompanied by a barely audible “Sir?”

He violently jerked his head towards the source of the voice, a lanky man standing to his right. Green eyes met brown before Todd quickly broke the contact to search the stranger’s face for familiarity. Black hair in cornrows, dark skin, strong jaw, full lips, wide nose, brown eyes. They looked to be about the same age.

He didn’t recognize him in the slightest.

“Y-Yes?” Todd stutters, voice raspy from screaming.  
“Drink this.” There’s compassion in the man’s tone as he crouches down next to the ginger, metal thermostat and plastic cup in hand. Todd must have looked confused because the stranger started to go into more detail.

“It’s clove milk,” He began, unscrewing the lid and pouring some of the creamy drink in the cup. “My grandma made it for me as a kid to help with nerves… I thought it might help calm people down.” He explained, handing Todd the plastic cup.

Todd blinked, looking down at the blue plastic cup in his hands then back up at the man in front of him. He was completely dumbfounded. Finally, he was able to pull himself together enough to remember some manners. Just as Todd was about to thank the man for his generosity and apologize for staring, he turned his head to the sound of someone calling his name.

“Neil..!”

“Yes?!”

There was a silent communication of hand gestures and intense stares between Neil and a woman across the street. His sister, Todd had presumed. Neil abruptly stood up, looking back at Todd with a small smile that made his eyes crinkle around the edges. With one hand he unsuccessfully tried to block the sun from his eyes, with the other he waved goodbye to Todd. It was a quick gesture and the moment was over as soon as Neil turned and started jogging towards the woman from before, but it left Todd awestruck. Brown eyes really are beautiful in the sunlight.

The cup in his hands was warm and somewhat comforting. Todd watched steam waft up from the milk inside and disappear into the air around him. He replayed the memory of how Neil's eyes looked in sunlight; pools of amber at sunrise. breathtaking.

Todd brought his lips to the cup, taking a small sip. There were hints of honey, cinnamon, and nutmeg, but nothing was overpowering. It made him feel nostalgic; like he was back at his grandma's house for fall break, reading on her porch. He missed the innocence of that.

He took another, longer sip before running a hand through his hair.

Inhale.

Besides the smog, the sky was vibrant blue.

Exhale.

Todd looked out into the crowd of distressed people. It was absolute, utter chaos.

It's September eleventh, two thousand and one, and Todd's convinced his world is falling apart.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in years, so please forgive the sloppiness of this
> 
> For those who don't know; September 9th, 2001 is the date of the Twin Towers terror attacks. On this day, two planes were hijacked and flown into the North and South tower, killing many inside the buildings (putting it briefly).
> 
> My Tumblr is @/afuchswelpe if you have any questions/comments or you just wanna share thoughts :)


End file.
